ACCIDENTAL QUESTS

Richard Miles

Description

Book One (1960) – An intelligent high school freshman endures the established, conventional discipline as he causes trouble and problems, either accidentally or by design; desperately struggles to exhibit his athletic ability; suffers from a parent's abandonment and aftermath; all exacerbated as he begins to seriously encounter teenage girls; ultimately forced into making some hard choices.

Sujets

• Univers ado
• Fiction ado
• Young Adult Fiction
• Coming of Age

Informations

• Publié par: eBookIt.com
• Date de parution: 25 novembre 2022
• Nombre de lectures: 0
• EAN13: 9781456639754
• Langue: English

Extrait

ACCIDENTAL QUESTS
 
BOOK I
THE LEAP YEAR SERIES
 
 
 
RICHARD BLAND MILES
Copyright © 2022 by Richard Bland Miles
First Ebook Edition


All rights reserved. No part of this book shall be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical including photocopy, recording, or by any information and storage retrieved system without the written permission of the author.
 
This book is a work of fiction. Names and characters are products of the author ’ s imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental. Names of some institutions and businesses were changed, others remained intact.
 
All merchandise and products are true to their time. Television shows are correctly sequenced. Recognizable persons, authors and their books, singers and their recordings are properly cited. Even the weather is accurately depicted.
 
 
 
ISBN: 978-1-4566-3975-4
 
Printed in the United States of America
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
For the still beautiful Georgiann
who was the extremely intense focus of
a singular quest a long, long time ago.
CONTENTS
Acknowledgements
Memoriam
Quote and Monetary Note
PREFACE
SEPTEMBER
OCTOBER
NOVEMBER
DECEMBER
JANUARY
FEBRUARY
MARCH
APRIL
MAY
JULY
 
Acknowledgements
My reviewers and critics, John Gatschet who provided insightful suggestions, ideas and changes; Kelli Blohm who advised changes and edited the book, identifying numerous grammatical errors. My wife Georgiann who suggested a significant and needed enhancement.
Memoriam
Aunt Georgia or “ Georgie ” , without whom, a lot of wonderful things in life would not have been possible.
 
Miss Hulda Pearson and Miss Eula Bridger, two incredible ‘ spinster ’ teachers.
 
Father Denis Pickert and the Jesuits — Robert R. Lakas, S.J., William C. Doyle, S.J. and John Kavanaugh, S.J., all of whom provided positive guidance and unwavering support in my life.
Quote and Monetary Note
“ When I was a boy of fourteen, my father was so ignorant I could hardly stand to have the old man around. But when I got to be twenty-one, I was astonished at how much he had learned in seven years. ”
 
Mark Twain
 
 
 
 
 
A dollar in 1960 is roughly worth $8.66 in 2020.
PREFACE
Accidental Quests are searches or pursuits that begin unintentionally and even unconsciously which intermittently intertwine, causing confusion yet occasionally some clarity. If successful, one finally attains meaningful rewards, having experienced significant adventures and hardships on the journey. That was the way it was for Jackson “ Jake ” Ford during his freshman year at Whittier Junior High School in Wyandotte, Kansas.
A new decade of the 60s was going to begin within months. Some adults predicted there could be big changes during its time. None could ever fathom the scope, the depth, the intensity. Certainly not the extent of the horror of the “ The Viet Nam Conflict, ” the mendacity and idiocy of the American government, the complete shift in culture mores, the chaotic divisiveness of the country.
But as typical teenagers, we didn ’ t pay any attention to “ our elders ” . Like our parents who ignored theirs and so did the generations before them — parental opinions and advice never mattered until one attained their twenties. (Case in point, Mark Twain ’ s witticism.) This was our decade to grow up, enjoy and misspend our youth, yet still mature into young adults — just like our parents had and the generations before them — in our own unique and particular way. But never under such diametric circumstances and events.
Tragically as the years progressed, the madness and violence escalated exponentially, culminating in 1968. I was truly convinced the world was going to end as the Gate to Hell continued to widen its crevice, spewing out growing hatred, destruction, anarchy. I never want to experience a decade like that again, especially with that year of absolute chaos and havoc as dreams fully shattered with polarizations and repressions surging resolutely, not just in the States — but Paris, Prague, Mexico City, Warsaw, other cities. A decade which started out with hope, with Camelot. All of this, of course, happened a long time ago as Jake was just starting high school.
 
Richard Bland Miles
June, 2020
SEPTEMBER
The ’55 Plymouth Plaza continued on its regular route down Central Avenue, marking the end of the summer of 1959. My thoughts drifted back through those short three months as I looked out my window in the backseat, yet not seeing anything.
Certainly not a very memorable summer.
Had a great season playing ball … hit .407 for our lousy 5 - 13 team. Sporadic pick-up games at the park. Killed some time watching TV. Played whiffle ball in the backyard with Peter. Sometimes getting whiffed … sometimes not.
Another one of The Old Man’s promises broken.
Went to the library, checked out and read a ton of books with great stories. Mostly about the ancient Romans. King Arthur and his Knights with their quests. Mother called it, ‘The only meaningful pursuit of my summer’.
Ah, but the new circulation librarian was another great story to check out, especially when she wore a fitted blouse and a tight straight skirt. An incredible ‘meaningful pursuit’ if I were only eight or ten years older. Those wondrous daydreams about her as Diana, Goddess of the Hunt or The Lady of the Lake to my Arthur. O God, she IS amazingly beautiful and so built, so stacked. Shouldn’t she have been back in the stacks? Heh, heh!
Omaha was the best part with Pat, Aunt Virginia, Uncle Patrick. Rode all over North Omaha on ‘The Cruiser’. Oh, that fantastic bike ! Learned how to play golf … damn mediocre results.
Oh well, goodbye to this insignificant summer … this would be THE YEAR. The guys had waited our two years to become the top dogs. The Freshman … now it was our time to rule.
The reappearance of GIRLS … flirting, parties, dancing, going steady, making out. All of that great stuff with good-looking, shapely, fun-loving girls. And BASKETBALL … with those good-looking, shapely, fun-loving girls loudly cheering and screaming for us. Oh yeah!
The first day of school says it in big letters … SUMMER IS OVER AND GONE. Someone should tell that to this hot and humid weather hanging around from the Labor Day weekend. Someone should—
“Jake, you’ve certainly been quiet this morning.” Interrupting my thoughts was my mother, Eleanor, who had half-turned around in the front seat. Before I could grunt something intelligible, she charged on, “Freddie, now what subjects are you taking this year?” He started out in some detail and just finished reciting his schedule when we came to our stop.
Freddie’s sister had pulled over to the usual stop after the intersection of 10th and Central to let us out. They would continue across the river to the edge of downtown Kansas City to Northwest High School where Eleanor taught and Eva was the office manager. Good old Whittier Junior High was right on the way for this part of their drive. Freddie and I said our good-byes and started walking the remaining half mile or so. The Wagner family lived a half block up the street from us and although Freddie was only seven months younger, we had different interests. So we talked about the usual things teenage boys from Wyandotte who have little in common: baseball and the crummy Kansas City Athletics, the hot weather, then finally school.
As we turned the corner to go up the long, uphill block to the school, Freddie asked me, “Did you get into journalism class?”
“No,” I flatly said, “I have regular old English.” Letter high fastball, swing and miss … Strike one.
“Know why you didn’t? Uh … you know … some reason in their letter?”
“Nope. Not really. Somethin’ about others more qualified or capable. Dunno. Don’t care.”
Journalism class would have about twenty to twenty-five of the brightest and most promising students in the freshman class. All would be required to have the willingness and self-discipline to follow the necessary rules in order to generate ideas for articles, write copy, and meet deadlines to publish the bi-weekly school newspaper — The Ivandale — named for the street on which the school is located.
My English assignments were always graded with 1’s, sometimes a stray 2 or 2+. Miss Bergström was terrific as her teaching method simply made me hungry to learn, finding my self-discipline simply by wanting more. While Miss Slatton for geography was good and Miss Larrson was great, my other three teachers — a foul-tempered, ugly harpy for Typing, a tedious, humorless Math bore along with the Study Hall tyrant — imposed their forms of discipline upon me, especially when I clashed with them, describing me as “self-willed” or “rebellious” or “unmanageable” and more adjectives I don’t remember or even care to try. Of the class roster I knew, almost all of them were definitely not as “qualified” or “capable” as I am. I didn’t know the criteria or who made the selections, just I wasn’t given the chance to be in the class.
Freddie pressed, “What about the Big Reels? Did you get your invitation?”
“No, I didn’t. Damn Freddie, don’t know why. Must be the scheduling.” Another fastball, swing, another miss … Strike Two.
“Well, I just want to make sure I get in next year.”
“Don’t worry. You’ll have it made in the shade. See ya, Freddie.” Don’t see how you have a chance, Freddie. But what do I know? I sure didn’t make it.
The Big Reels Club was a group of selected freshmen boys who set up the projector, the screen, and ran the films for a class. I thought to be a member only required enough intelligence to run a 35 mm film projector machine but obviously there must be more screening qualifications. The Club was supposed to introduce boys to the concept of service to the school and hence, the community. Most guys wanted in for various reasons and none of them involved the s